Re: A Near-Dead Poem

Standard

Sometimes
I really feel
Like my poetry
Has died

At least
For a while
But I can say
I tried

Truth is
I left it gasping
— my poor poem —
in the dirt.

I knew it was in trouble
I knew that it was hurt

“Git up”
I snarled meanly
And kicked it with my toe
When it didn’t move
I just turned to go
And leave it metaphorically
Lying the ground
But I covered it with corny rhymes
Hoping to ease the wound

Maybe it will recover
Miracles do happen
Time-rest-space may cure it
Meantime, I’ll stop my yappin’

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